Somewhere in the city,
this dark September morning,
before light infuses the eastern sky,
before the crows stir and lift and caw their way
back into the day,
someone I know
keeps watch at the bedside
of her dying sister.
This sister, the one hovering near consciousness,
may or may not know what is happening to her.
Drugs--angels of mercy--may be dulling her
to death's patient presence,
or those same drugs
may be clearing the path
in ways we can't imagine;
perhaps the morphine brings clarity and acceptance,
opens inner vision to embrace One
who approaches to embrace her.
But outside, here, in what we call the real world,
we wait,
we hold the slowly cooling hand,
we shed our tears
and flip through the channels of memory;
we hope all necessary words have been said
and unwelcome demons sent packing.
Our breathing slows to mimic theirs
until time itself--
and the universe--
holds its final breath.
Text and image © 2012 by Dirk deVries. All rights reserved.
